


Good Things Happen To Good People

by bachelorgirl



Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: M/M, Post-Series, Schmoop, future!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-13
Updated: 2006-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bachelorgirl/pseuds/bachelorgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post series finale. For <a href="http://simply-fly-away.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://simply-fly-away.livejournal.com/"><b>simply_fly_away</b></a>, who wanted to read it. Or, something like it anyway. She wanted happy and domestic with good things happening to good people and that's what this is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Things Happen To Good People

"Why is it that I don't use the treadmill to keep myself in shape, again?" Doug asked, breathing heavily and collapsing back onto the sofa and sending a shower of pink, white, and yellow balloons flying in every direction.

"Because you use it to hang-dry your pants after you wash them? Well, that, and I think we've lost it under the pile of books that you keep promising me you're going to sort through some day and that you're only leaving on the treadmill 'until you get around to it.'" Jack replied with a grin, taking a break from tying pink ribbons around the tops of little plastic bags to make finger quotes in the air.

"Are you implying something?" Doug asked, slightly opening one eye to look over at Jack.

"Yes," Jack nodded. "That you're a procrastinator." Jack replied, a small smile tugging at his lips, focusing his attention back on his task. Ducking his head in a very half-hearted attempt not to be heard, he continued, "An old and out-of-shape procrastinator."

Doug laughed and tossed the half-empty bag of balloons across the living room and into the dining room where Jack was sitting. "Fine. Since you're so young and virile, why don't you blow up the rest of these?"

"Because this birthday party was your idea?" Jack replied with a laugh, putting the package down onto the dining room table.

"And, clearly you should do a better job of protecting me from my bouts of mental defect."

"Hey, I asked if you thought it was a good idea when you suggested it."

"Yes. Once. You asked me once. And, when I said that it might be fun, you suggested that we should probably invite the whole class. And, all the kids from her ballet class, too. And, half of Capeside."

Jack looked up with a smile. "Umm... whoops?"

Doug pushed himself off of the couch with an exaggerated groan and walked over to the table to retrieve the package of balloons.

As he walked up behind Jack at the table, he scrubbed his hand through Jack's hair, causing the short dark strands to stand up in a mass of messy spikes.

"Hey!" Jack replied, tipping his head back to look at Doug accusingly.

Doug just smiled and kissed Jack's forehead lightly. "You really want *all* of these blown up?"

"Well, yes. Thus the explicit instructions of 'Here, blow these up for me' that I gave you when I handed you the package."

"Hey, you're the teacher here. Surely you're aware just what a misguided idea it is to have this many balloons with two hundred 5-year-olds running around."

"Twenty six. Plus some assorted parents. And some of our friends. It will be fine. Here," Jack said, picking up the bag and shoving it at Doug, "Blow."

Doug sighed melodramatically. "Never before has that sounded so unsexy and so unfun, all at the same time."

Jack rolled his eyes, "Do I even want to ask what sort of perverted pleasure you get out of administering breathalyser tests, then?"

Doug grinned. "Nope."

"Didn't think so. You, blow. I'll finish getting the gift bags ready. Then, we'll frost the cake."

Doug raised his eyebrows.

"Fine. I'll frost the cake and I'll get you to move all of the things out of the living room that we don't want completely destroyed during the games. Oh, and we still have to bring the bike in from the garden shed."

"You do realize that she is quite possibly the most spoiled five year old in the history of mankind, right?"

"Says the man who built her a dollhouse for her fourth birthday that ended up costing more money than the two of us make in a week. Combined."

"It was a nice dollhouse!"

"There were *shingles*. On the *roof*. Real shingles. That were more expensive than the ones we just had put on this house."

Doug sighed and went to push himself away from the table but was yanked into a chair by Jack's hand on his wrist.

"Balloons. If I have to chain you to the table, I will."

Looking over at Jack, Doug smiled. "Hey now, I'm the one with the handcuffs."

"Yes." Jack replied, not breaking the rhythm of his ribbon tying. "And, wimp out on me now and see if I ever let you use them around here again."

Doug gaped for a moment before he burst out laughing. "Yes, sir."

"Balloons. Breakables. Bike." Jack replied, pointing to the table, the living room and out to the backyard as he spoke.

"And, then the party." Doug lamented, shuddering only a little. "I think I need a pre-emptive Motrin. Or four."

Jack smiled. "It's going to be great, you know it is. Amy's going to love it, the kids are going to have a great time and everything's going to be fine. And, well-ballooned." Jack replied, pointing at the half-full package of balloons. "And, then, if you're a good boy, and you're not too worn out on me, maybe I'll let you break out those handcuffs later."

"You know, there are some men who might feel as though they were being manipulated." Doug grinned as he reached across Jack for the package. Giving him a quick kiss as he settled back in the chair, he pulled the first balloon out of the package. "Fortunately for me, I like that."


End file.
